


Lavender & Blossoms

by Bellflower



Category: Samurai Warriors
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-16
Packaged: 2017-11-14 09:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellflower/pseuds/Bellflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back when they were still teenagers, they had shared their first drink together. Motochika had only been very mildly affected, but Mitsuhide’s subsequent attempt at standing up had ended with him falling backwards and hitting his head against the hardwood floor.</p><p>For the 'Embarrass(ed)' prompt on my Cotton Candy Bingo card!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lavender & Blossoms

Mitsuhide was drunk.

Motochika was certain that his friend had not gotten that way on purpose; the younger man avoided alcohol at all times, knowing full well that it didn’t agree with him. One glass of wine was literally all it took to ensure he couldn’t walk straight. Several of their housemates refused to believe anyone could be that much of a lightweight drinker, but Motochika knew it from experience. Back when they were still teenagers, they had shared their first drink together. Motochika had only been very mildly affected, but Mitsuhide’s subsequent attempt at standing up had ended with him falling backwards and hitting his head against the hardwood floor.

He swore he would never touch a drop of alcohol again, the next day… and while he did not keep to that oath the first time he made it, or the second time, he had ever since third.

“Motochika, I… I want to sit down,” murmured Mitsuhide, forehead pressed against Motochika’s shoulder and hand curled in his shirt. “I don’t want anyone to see me fall over. I don’t.”

One of the jugs of juice had to have been spiked. That, or someone had been slipping spirits into Mitsuhide’s cup when he wasn’t looking. Motochika slipped an arm around his friend’s back in order to support him and glanced around the room. There was, quite suspiciously, _nobody looking their way_.

“No need to concern yourself,” said Motochika, slowly guiding Mitsuhide over to one of the sofas. “I have you.”

When his young friend was safely deposited in the haven of cushions and blankets, Motochika went to collect a glass of water before sitting down himself. There still seemed to be nobody paying them any attention, but he was sure he had felt someone’s gaze upon him when his back was turned. After looking over the crowd (and picking out a few suspects), Motochika turned his attention to Mitsuhide again.

Mitsuhide’s cheeks were deeply flushed, his dark brown eyes noticeably clouded; he seemed drunk enough that Motochika was fairly certain he’d be asleep soon, even with the loud music and laughter surrounding them. It would probably be best to let him do so before picking him up and taking him back to the flat they shared, a few floors up. Mitsuhide would be embarrassed enough in the morning as it was, without the memory of being carried bridal style through a room full of their mutual friends. 

“How do you feel?” Motochika asked, sweeping a few hairs out of Mitsuhide’s face.

“Embarassed.” Mitsuhide shifted closer to his friend and buried his face in the older man’s shoulder, as if hiding his eyes would shield him from the sight of others as well. “I didn’t want… I didn’t want this. Motochika. I didn’t drink, I _don’t_ drink.”

“I know.” Motochika leaned back in the chair and tucked an arm around Mitsuhide’s smaller frame. “Don’t worry about it. Just drink this down and it’ll pass by tomorrow.”

Mitsuhide pulled his head back again and regarded the glass Motochika was holding in an extremely critical manner, as if he suspected it, too, might contain alcohol. After a moment, however, he reached out, took it and downed half in one go.

The other half ended up partly on Mitsuhide himself, and partly on the floor.

Somewhere in the crowd there was laughter; Motochika glanced over to where it was coming from and caught sight of a certain someone quickly looking away. He smirked to himself; the most obvious suspect was the perpetrator? So be it. There was a very fitting and easy way to get them back. For now, however, he turned his attention back to Mitsuhide, who had dropped the glass on the sofa and was now snuggling into Motochika’s chest, apparently failing to notice that the bottom of his shirt was soaked.

“I like you,” Mitsuhide slurred. “You’re my favourite person, Motochika.”

Interesting.

“Am I your second favourite as well?” Motochika asked, unable to help himself. He laughed when Mitsuhide frowned in response, apparently confused by the question.

“You are… you’re _all_ of my favourites,” was Mitsuhide’s eventual reply. “Because you play nice music, and help me out, and be yourself without caring what others think.”

He yawned.

“I like the way you smell, too…”

That certainly gave Motochika pause. The older man rose an eyebrow, smirk widening at the implications. 

“Oh? And what kind of smell do I have, Mitsuhide?”

“You smell like an ocean breeze…” Mitsuhide was drifting off even as he spoke. “Salty and fresh and free… it’s good, Motochika… really good.” 

Motochika’s smirk softened to a smile at that. He carried the scent of the sea with him, did he? It was difficult to believe that any human could smell quite that way naturally, but that didn’t matter. If Mitsuhide believed it, Motochika would accept it.

Besides, the simple fact that his closest friend had _noticed_ such a thing said a lot. 

Motochika stuck a leg out and leaned back further into the sofa, pulling Mitsuhide in ever closer. He looked very pleased with himself when moments later, Saika Magoichi walked past and promptly fell over face-first into the carpeted floor (to the amusement of the _entire_ room, including a young woman he’d been hitting on all night). 

“At least it wasn’t a hardwood floor,” he said, when Magoichi managed to get himself upright again; the other man opened his mouth, closed it again, laughed half-heartedly and quickly retreated back to the other side of the room.

“Mmm? What?” Mitsuhide had closed his eyes, and his voice was barely audible. “A floor? That doesn’t have a smell…”

Motochika laughed warmly, turning his attention back to the inebriated beauty lying in his arms. This was definitely the kind of thing he could get used to (minus the ‘inebriated’ part). 

“Go to sleep, Mitsuhide,” he said, stroking through his friend’s fringe affectionately.

Perhaps it was time to take the next step. Mitsuhide could not know it, but he smelt of lavender and blossoms and a cool Autumn night; it was a smell that Motochika longed to wake up next to every morning, and he would do everything he could to ensure that it became a regular part of his life.


End file.
